The Tenor
by CharmedArtist
Summary: When Harry attended a service in the old German church, he certainly didn't expect to find a dead man there. (No slash.)
1. Chapter 1

It had been a while since Harry had last seen his wizarding friends, he mused as the last of them left his house after the farewell party. He was moving to Germany for his job, and though he could pop back over to England at any time it was nice to have an excuse to get his friends together.

Most of them were married, now, and several of them had children – Ron and Hermione's oldest was going to Hogwarts already, in fact. Harry himself was currently single, a recent relationship having come to a quiet end, and had no family to tie him to his mother country, so it seemed as good a time as any to move to another nation – thus why his company was sending him to Germany. He'd begun to spend more time in the Muggle world after the end of the war, even attending university for a time, and had come to appreciate the more sensible approach to life that Muggles tended to have. And if there was one stereotype about Germans, it was that they were _sensible_ , so Harry hoped to feel comfortable in the foreign country.

Clearing away the dirty dishes with a few waves of his wand, Harry was grateful again for magic, having never really lost that appreciation of the power at his fingertips. People who grew up around magic just didn't value what a gift they had, and even most Muggleborns got used to being able to do nearly anything with a swish or a flick, but Harry never forgot, now, what power and ease magic gave him. He preferred to use it for simple things, now – a small project, simple chores, or the like – and spending most of his time around nonmagical people. He rather thought he'd enjoy being in a small German city with no magical contact.

Tübingen, the place was called: A small and very, very old University city in the south of Germany, quite close to France. Maybe he'd visit the other country while he was in the area. Plenty of time still for that, he figured as he put away the chairs, shrinking and packing the rest of his things and taking one last look around his bare living room. It was with a tiny smile that Harry went to bed that night, knowing that due to working with a Muggle company he'd have to take the plane to Germany tomorrow instead of travelling by magical means. It wouldn't be his first time on a plane, considering the few business trips he'd been on, and he did have to say that he preferred the large machine to Floo powder or portkeys. He still had the occasional nightmare involving the latter.

However, those were thoughts for another day, and the following day wasn't it, what with how focused Harry was on packing his things and reaching the airport safely. It was a far more tired man that finally let himself into the apartment that would serve as his new home for the foreseeable future, and Harry promptly took a nap. He wasn't sure why travelling by any means exhausted him so much, but he'd come to expect it by now.

After that, it didn't take long for him to settle into a routine of work, language lessons, personal projects and sightseeing, and Harry found himself feeling surprisingly comfortable in the traditional old city. It was a truly picturesque place to live, with the Neckar River flowing sedately past colorful old houses and sycamore trees, and Harry made friends with whom he would enjoy a beer or slice of cake depending on the time of day. Old houses lined the cobblestone streets, thin alleys winding through the city center and abundant hills encouraging the young man to walk more often than he took the bus. After a few years of living in London the quiet, small city was an abrupt change, and one he found himself liking very much, even if the guttural and harsh sounds of the language made it an occasionally frustrating place to live.

Several weeks passed before Harry decided to attend a Mass in the Stiftskirche, the gothic church perched in the middle of the city center. He had been inside it already, admiring architecture and paintings without other people present, but this Sunday there would be a choir accompanying the service, and Harry felt it was something he should at least experience once in his life. Being little religious himself, he had never felt the need to attend church – indeed, felt it would be a bit presumptuous of him – but several of his colleagues had assured him that a sung Mass was something to be enjoyed even if you weren't the religious sort.

And so he went.

He chose a seat in a bench somewhat off to the side, where he had a reasonable view of both the milling choir and the spot he thought the priest might occupy, and felt a small shiver of anticipation run through him. The choir members were talking quietly at the front of the church, and they were all dressed in black and white with rigid folders under their arms. As they talked they gradually moved into discernable positions, with the women standing in two rows in front of the men, and what he assumed was a conductor moved to stand before them.

An upsketch of the hands, and a breathless moment of silence – and then a glorious burst of sound filled the church, dozens of voices blending and reverberating within the large space. Harry didn't understand a word that passed from those many lips, but as the priest and his entourage slowly proceeded down the aisle he felt a deep appreciation that he had come.

All too soon the song ended and the priest spoke, the gravity of foreign words touching Harry in a way that was different from the music, yet complemented it in some intangible way. As someone who had never been to church before he mimicked the actions of the people around him, wondering whether it was appropriate for him to do so when he didn't even know what was being said but knowing himself well enough to admit that he'd never lost that wish to fit in.

Before long the priest bowed his head and Harry turned his gaze to the choir in anticipation, already seeing the conductor nod – and froze in shock as a familiar voice filled the silence.

"Gloria in excelsis deo," a lone voice preceded the rest of the choir, the other singers joining in with a strong burst of sound, but Harry's gaze was rooted on a single figure among the choir.

He had changed, was Harry's numb thought as he took in the tall figure of Severus Snape. The formerly lank, black hair was entirely grey, cut short in a swirling hairstyle that suited the pale man far more than the long locks ever had. A white shirt and black vest was all Harry could see of the man's clothing, though he didn't doubt the trousers would be black as well, considering the dress code, and Harry watched numbly as the man sang, holding his music aloft and his eyes fixed on the conductor. Despite the distance Harry could clearly recognize the man's face, now, and found himself further shocked when his former Potions professor smiled at the end of the song.

He'd thought him dead.

Oh, perhaps a part of him had always hoped that the unlikely hero had survived Nagini's bite when the body couldn't be found, but mostly he had thought that the man had just found one last burst of strength to take him to somewhere he'd rather die. To see him now, singing in a German church… Harry would wonder if it weren't just a lookalike if not for the voice. He'd never heard anyone with a voice quite like Snape's.

He spent the entire Mass staring at the tall figure, watching that familiar mouth enunciate as clearly as ever, letting glorious notes spill forth to the vaulted ceiling and curving into a smile with the end of each piece. It seemed the snake bite to the neck hadn't impaired the wizard's ability to sing.

By the end of the service Harry had entered a strange state of dazed tranquility, and only roused himself when others began to file out of the church. The choir was singing a last piece, and Harry felt slightly disconnected from his body as he rose to leave, all his attention still fixed on the tall singer. And then, just as he was about to turn – dark eyes met his, and the tenor visibly faltered, staring incredulously at the man who had once been his student.

Harry didn't know how long they remained that way, gazes locked to the exclusion of all else, but finally he exhaled in a tiny sigh and inclined his head in a slow nod before turning and leaving the church. He felt a stunned gaze on his back all the way out, and paused briefly at the exit of the church, squinting at the sudden glare before stepping out onto the cobblestones. He wouldn't be telling anyone about this, he thought as he stepped into the sunlit square, moving slowly away from the church where the last few notes of song rang out. It was enough to know the man alive and well. It was enough.


	2. Chapter 2

Potter.

Potter was in his city.

With a snarl Severus kicked over the suitcase he had been glaring at. He refused to flee like a dog with its tail between its legs just because insufferable Saint Potter had shown up in Tübingen! The brat was likely just passing through, anyhow – after all, there were no fans in the Muggle community, he thought with a sneer. Striding out of his apartment, Severus decided furiously that he certainly wasn't going to give up his home for James Potter's spawn.

Later, Severus wondered why the man – for he was one, now – hadn't approached him after the service. He had lingered inside the church with a suddenly dry mouth before swiftly making his way home, but there had been plenty of opportunities for Potter to corner him… So why hadn't he?

He mulled over that for days, alternating between loathing and calm contemplation, before he admitted to himself that Potter had seemed… at peace. The slow nod the young man had given him had made it seem as though he were perfectly content simply to know that Severus was alive, and while the former professor panicked slightly at the thought of whom Potter might tell about his whereabouts, he had thus far not received any visitors, nor had there been mention of him in the Daily Prophet. It was… disquieting.

Severus ventured from his apartment even less than usual that week, irrationally afraid that he might run into Potter in town, and was particularly tense at choir practice. His singing wasn't on par that night, and when several members of the choir showed genuine concern for him Severus found himself relaxing. He had a good life here, and felt surprisingly at home among the German singers who had easily welcomed him into their fold, greeting him with firm handshakes each week and posing interested questions about his work. Tübingen was very fond of homemade teas and soaps, he had found.

Gradually he relaxed back into his regular schedule, thoughts of Potter further from his mind as Fall colored Tübingen's hills in magnificent swaths of color and his teas were bought in greater quantities. He added hand moisturizer to his inventory and found himself playing around with different scents and consistencies, his customers happy to test them and give him feedback. Potter and the lingering threat of being discovered faded from his mind as the weather grew colder.

When the choir next sang a Mass in the Stiftskirche, Severus couldn't prevent his mouth from running dry as his eyes swept the gathering. No sign of Potter, and he relaxed fractionally throughout the service, the Latin phrases rolling easily off his tongue as he sang the tenor parts. They were singing a Mass by Menschick this time, a comparatively simple Mass that didn't require his full attention to sing flawlessly. He couldn't help but feel relieved when the service ended without a glimpse of Potter.

OoOoO

Meanwhile, Harry was enjoying his own time in Tübingen. His apartment on the hill gave him a beautiful view of rolling hills covered in Fall colors, and the crisp air called for warmer clothing. The sky was often grey, but even so there was plenty of light – and Harry did love the rain that fell so frequently over the city. He had always loved the smell of it, and being among so much nature was wonderful after the years in London. This was more like being back at Hogwarts, but with the advantages of living in a city.

As the weather grew cooler he found himself drinking more tea – he had actually brought an amount of proper tea with him from England, but found himself enjoying the many teas people in Tübingen drank. Harry actually hadn't been in any of the tea shops himself yet; he had received a large selection of teas as a welcoming present from his colleagues, since it had been common knowledge in his former office that he rarely drank alcohol, and the different herbal teas were a pleasant departure from the regular English breakfast tea he still drank each morning.

His language skills, too, were coming along nicely, and on the weekends he went hiking with some of his German colleagues, unable to understand most of their conversations but happy to see the spectacular nature and even ruins they passed by. Despite the slight language barrier the company was good-natured, and though most of his colleagues spoke English very well Harry applied himself diligently to learning the new language. It was a challenge he hadn't faced before, and though he had a lot of difficulties it was strangely rewarding.

Wrapping a Weasley-knit scarf around his neck, Harry left for work with a content smile. Yes, he was enjoying Tübingen so far.

OoOoO

Harry laughed as one of his younger colleagues, Valerie Böbel, dragged him away from the yearly chocolate market to show him her favorite tea shop.

"It's where we bought your Begrüßungsgeschenk – your welcome present," she said with a toothy grin. She was one of the engineers at their company, and so far had been more than happy to show around the only employee younger than her. He was 29 and she was 32, born and raised in Tübingen; she'd joined the company straight out of University, so she knew the city inside and out.

Leading him down a few cobblestone alleys, the brunette grinned happily as she spotted the shop. "Right there!" she pointed at the sign for 'Stephans Teehus' (A/N: Original is Hinrichs Teehus) and made to open the door.

"I've brought you a new customer, Herr Stenhouse," the woman called out cheerfully in German, preceding Harry into a shop heavily perfumed with the smell of tea.

"I will be with you shortly, Fräulein Böbel," a smooth voice replied from the back room, and Harry missed a step. Snape, he thought wide-eyed, and stared at the back room in shock. Honestly, he supposed he shouldn't be surprised that the Potions Master would create teas.

He heard steps approaching and tried to smother his surprise, looking up to see Snape falter as their eyes met.

"Herr Stenhouse," Harry said abruptly, moving forward to offer the man his hand. "My name is Harry Potter. You make wonderful teas." His German was enough to say that much, thankfully. The man smoothly covered his hesitation and took Harry's hand, eyes intent and grip just that side of polite.

"Thank you, Herr Potter. It is good to hear that my teas are appreciated." The man's German sounded flawless, which didn't surprise Harry at all.

Harry smiled awkwardly and let go of the familiar hand that felt so unfamiliar within his own. "My colleagues bought me your tea when I moved here," he said one of the sentences he had practiced for just this occasion, "and since I liked it so much Valerie wanted to show me your store." He hoped he'd said that with the proper accent, and Valerie's reassuring smile told him he wasn't doing too terribly.

"You have just moved here, then?" Snape – Stenhouse, now – asked, and Harry shook his head in negation. He could see the suspicious glint in the other man's eyes.

"I moved here in August," he replied, wondering whether to add that he'd heard the man sing in the choir only a few weeks later. "For work," Harry added, unsure whether the German phrase was correct but knowing it conveyed the intended meaning when panic suddenly flared in the other man's eyes. Shaking his head with a slight grimace, he resorted to English to say, "I design motorcycles." He certainly didn't want the man to think he was an Auror tasked with bringing him in.

"That's right – aren't you also British, Herr Stenhouse?" Valerie suddenly chimed in, following Harry into English. "Harry has been working hard to learn German, but I'm sure you know how difficult it is," she smiled at her younger colleague. "We are very happy with his work so far, and we hope he stays for longer than his three-year posting."

Snape pinned Harry with an inscrutable gaze, and despite the man's change in appearance Harry felt like he was right back in the dungeons of Hogwarts. "No family to leave behind, Mister Potter?"

It was remarkable how different his name sounded when it wasn't being spoken with outright animosity, Harry realized. And after the accented pronunciation of his German colleagues, it was almost a relief to hear his surname pronounced properly.

"No, sir," Harry answered reflexively, only to be startled by Valerie's laugh. He was briefly tempted to return the question or ask Snape when he had moved to Tübingen, but instead grinned sheepishly at Valerie and said, "Force of habit, you know..."

"I am just glad you don't call me 'love' as Shane does," the woman laughed. "Respect is a good habit to have."

Harry smiled, then turned back to Snape with a slight nod. "I do apologize if we interrupted anything – I didn't mean to intrude." It was an apology for more than the current conversation and he saw that Snape recognized that. Rather than reply the man simply inclined his head, holding Harry's gaze for another moment before turning to Valerie.

"Miss Böbel, Mister Potter, I will be in the back until you are ready," he said smoothly, turning to go once both his customers had agreed. It was a bit strange to see him walk away without the dramatic flare of robes, Harry mused as he watched the man's retreat.

When did Potter turn into a man? Severus thought distractedly as he stalked to his back room. Why hadn't he minded Severus asking about his family – a calculated question that he was almost ashamed of, now – and why hadn't he pried in return? He'd seen the temptation flit over the younger man's face, briefly, and had hidden his shock when no question had followed. It was perfectly within the realms of polite conversation to ask when he himself had moved to Tübingen, after all, or why he had chosen the small German town – and yet, his former student hadn't asked. Had even apologized for intruding. It seemed... almost as though Potter hadn't even known that Severus lived here before he himself had made the move. Why would Potter choose to come to such a small city when no doubt he'd had a perfectly comfortable life in England? And designing motorcycles – a Muggle job? He couldn't wrap his head around it.

He was still chasing questions around his brain when his customers called him back, and he reluctantly returned to the shop. Not that he let his reluctance show.

After the purchases had been made – he hid his surprise at Potter buying his favorite blend – the green-eyed man held out a business card to him with an uncertain smile.

"In case you'd like to chat with someone from back home," he said mildly, and Severus felt his face tighten.

"Thank you," he ground out, accepting the card only because Valerie Böbel was looking on happily. "Should you require more tea," the warning that Potter could get nothing else from him was clear, "you know where to find me." The younger man nodded in acceptance and turned to go.

"Good day, Mister Stenhouse," he said at the door, and Severus watched silently as his most unexpected customer left the shop. Then he promptly closed up for the day and swept out of the room.

A/N: Not sure where else to take this – the first chapter really is wonderful on its own – but I wanted to write about Snape creating and selling teas. Doesn't it fit so well? I also felt like writing more about my hometown – Tübingen really is a lovely city, and I might just turn this story into a sort of what-to-do-in-Tübingen guide, with Harry and Severus introducing you to the city while running into each other unexpectedly. This is not going to be a slash fic, though, no matter what happens.


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